


Shut Up

by PalavaRakkaus



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I have never touched the source material, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Pining, Smut, Very slightly drunken sex, or rather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24054136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalavaRakkaus/pseuds/PalavaRakkaus
Summary: Fuck me, Anders says, and what else is Fenris supposed to do but to take him home and comply? Unfortunately, Anders is just a little bit drunk and that leads to him saying other things Fenris is less prepared to deal with.It may be the end of their not-quite-friends with benefits relationship.Or is it?
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Fenris had not been sitting on Hawke's sofa for more than a few minutes before Anders appeared and, without a warning, plopped down to sit sideways on his lap.

"Er," Fenris said. He glanced around. The party was getting rowdier around them, and no one was paying them any attention, at least yet, but he seriously considered shoving Anders to the floor.

"You should take me home," Anders said. His face was flushed, no doubt from drink, and he was grinning like the idiot he was, apparently unaware that he was _not_ supposed to sit on Fenris's lap in public.

"Why would I do that?" Fenris asked, suspicious.

"Because then," Anders said, leaning closer and staring Fenris in the eye, "you could fuck me."

Fenris's jaw fell. He glanced around again, but it didn't seem anyone had heard that. "You cannot _say_ things like that where anyone could hear!" he hissed, infuriated.

"Oh come on." Anders waved a hand. He'd definitely been drinking more than usual—not that it took much to get him drunk. Anders was such a lightweight. "Everyone and their mother knows we're fucking. Well, Hawke's mother does, at least."

"Hawke's mother knows—!"

"Yeah." Anders nodded. Empathically. Four times. "So anyway. Why aren't you taking me home already?"

Fenris didn't know what to say. Anders shifted closer until his nose touched Fenris's cheek, and wrapped an arm around Fenris's shoulders. Fenris could smell the alcohol in his breath.

"You're drunk," Fenris offered.

"Nah." Anders shook his head. He'd lost his hair tie, and now the golden strands brushed across Fenris's cheek, soft like silk. They smelled good, like Anders himself. "Just happy."

Fenris scoffed. "Right. I'm not taking you home."

"Come on. Please. I want you to fuck me. Hard." He nuzzled Fenris's ear. His words were hardly slurred, so maybe he wasn't lying about not being that drunk. "Really hard. So hard that I'll scream. Like last week. Last week was so good."

"The—" Fenris had to pause to clear his throat; the image of what they'd done last week was suddenly very clear in his head. He tried again. "The neighbours gave me _looks_ after that."

"Aw." Anders wrapped his other arm around Fenris's neck. "Face down?" he offered. "So I can bite the pillow?"

"Shut up," Fenris told him.

"Fuck me," Anders countered. "I'll let you"—he let go of Fenris's neck and made a vague circular gesture—"you know, gag me."

Fenris frowned. As much as he told Anders to shut up, the thought of gagging him was supremely unappealing. He would have never told Anders, but he liked Anders' voice, especially when it was shaky with pleasure and capable of nothing but begging and repeating his name.

"Fenris," Anders said, and though his voice wasn't shaky now, Fenris had to struggle against the jolt of desire rushing through his body. "I'll do anything. I'll be so good for you, I promise. You know I will be. Come on, you like fucking me, I know that."

Fenris felt heat creeping up his neck. Of course he liked fucking Anders, but that was not the point. "If you do not shut up, I will slap you."

Anders gave him a hopeful look. "On my arse?"

The heat was taking over his ears too.

"I am not—I am not doing _anything_ with you," he said again, and wished had a little more scathing response.

"We both know that's a lie. You're already imagining it: me face down on the bed, your hand holding my wrists behind my back when that delicious, thick cock sinks into my—"

Fenris clamped his hand over Anders' mouth. "Shut. Up."

"So, what's happening here?" With no more warning than Anders had given, Hawke dropped to sit beside Fenris. "Want to take that to the guest room?" she offered, gesturing at them.

Fenris really hoped the blush he could feel reaching his cheeks now wasn't too visible. He dropped his hand from Anders' mouth and glared at him. Anders had the audacity to ignore it.

"Well, Fenris refuses to take me home," Anders started. "So—"

Fenris covered Anders' mouth with his hand again.

"He is drunk," he said to Hawke.

She snorted. "I can see that. You should definitely take him home."

"I can't imagine why I would do such a thing."

"Come on now," Hawke said. "Everyone knows you two are fucking. Even mother commented on it yesterday."

Anders pried Fenris's hand from his mouth. "See?" he looked triumphant. "I told you!"

Fenris was going to kill him.

"I don't think you're helping your case," Hawke said. "Fenris looks positively murderous."

"Nah." Anders waved a hand. "He always looks like that, except when he's fucking me. Which he should be doing soon, by the way. Hard."

Sounding far more delighted than she should have, Hawke laughed.

Fenris did not. He glared at Anders, as little effect on him as that had. "You shut your mouth at this very moment, or I will make you regret every single word that has ever come out of it."

"He's no fun, Hawke," Anders complained and dropped his head on Fenris's shoulder. "Why did I ever fall for such a bastard, tell me that?"

Fenris missed Hawke's response, but it wasn't his fault. Anders wasn't supposed to say things like that, but he was drunk, and it was possible Fenris shouldn't hold him accountable of _all_ the words that came out of his foolish mouth.

Anders said many stupid things even when he wasn't drunk; drinking only made it worse. Fenris had to ignore what he'd said, as he usually did, because acknowledging an obvious untruth like that would only lead to—

He decided not to finish that thought.

His attention returned to the conversation going on when he realised Anders had called his name. He looked up into slightly dazed honey eyes.

"Why are we still here?" Anders asked. "Just take me home and fuck me already. I want you, Fenris. Please?"

"Unlike you may believe," Fenris started, "I am, in fact, not your living, breathing dildo."

"Yeah," Anders said. "A dildo wouldn't make me wait."

Hawke snorted. Fenris covered his eyes with one hand and took a deep, calming breath. It filled his lungs with the scent of Anders' skin, his hair, his cheap laundry detergent, and turned out that wasn't as calming as he'd hoped.

Anders did such horrible things to him with his mere presence.

"Just take him home," Hawke said. "He's not going to stop insisting, you know that."

"That is not a reason to give in," Fenris muttered.

"It is," Anders said. His arms came to wrap around Fenris's neck again. "Fenris, _please_. I'll be so good for you. We both know you want to, anyway."

"Shut up," Fenris suggested.

Hawke rolled her eyes. "He's not going to stop. You're only going to attract attention I know you don't want if you keep sitting there with him on your lap. Obviously, everyone knows you're fucking, but taking him home will actually spare you from having to admit that out loud tonight."

She had a point, Fenris acknowledged, but he did not like the thought of giving in to Anders. He couldn't let Anders think he had any sort of control of things, because if he did—

Actually, Fenris wasn't sure where that would lead to. Anders already acted as if he had all the control over Fenris, and, grudgingly, Fenris had to admit that the man wasn't entirely wrong. It was difficult to deny Anders anything, because he was lovely in bed, willing and eager, and rather attractive too. Not that Fenris would have ever mentioned any of that to Anders, because despite any stupid, drunken things Anders may have said, they had no relationship. They fucked when they were in the mood, they both enjoyed it, and that was the entire extent of it.

If, for some strange reason, Fenris himself happened to have any kind of _feelings_ towards Anders, which he was not saying he did, he needed to bury them deep; that was the only way to avoid future regrets.

Anders shifted on his lap. "Fenris," he said. "Come on. Please."

Fenris closed his eyes for a moment. "Fine," he snapped as he opened them. "We're going."

"We are?" Anders asked. The delighted look on his face was far too adorable, and Fenris did his best to ignore it.

Hawke grinned at them both. "Have a good night then."

"You could bet on that," Anders said. The grin that had overtaken his face was even wider than Hawke's.

"Not a word of this," Fenris told Hawke. "Do you understand."

She gave him an innocent, completely unconvincing smile. "Not a word," she said.

Fenris didn't believe her for a moment, but he had no time to try to threaten or persuade her into silence, because Anders had gotten off his lap and was pulling him to his feet by his arm.

"Come on, Fenris, we got to go, I need you now."

"It is incredible how annoying you can be," Fenris said, but he allowed himself to be dragged to the door and out of Hawke's home.

They made their way to Fenris's flat hand in hand simply because Anders refused to let go of Fenris's, and he didn't feel like causing a scene in the middle of the street.

And if he enjoyed the feel of Anders' warm fingers laced through his, well, he was not going to admit that to anyone, not even himself. Things he did not acknowledge would go away eventually, he was almost sure of that.

He ignored the disappointment he felt when he had to let go of Anders' hand to fish out the keys from the pocket of his jacket. Of course Anders, being Anders and being drunk, had to lean into him instead and even wrap an arm around his shoulders, and in the end, it took Fenris three tries to get the door open. The absolute filth Anders was whispering into his ear wasn't helping.

"I knew you'd show the door who's boss!" Anders said as the lock finally cooperated and they could step in. "You always do."

"Shut up." Fenris took off his jacket and kicked his boots to the corner, and Anders followed his example without prompting. It seemed he was capable of learning, though Fenris supposed that not letting him come for several hours the last time he'd walked in with his shoes on might have been a good reason to improve his behaviour.

The way Anders grinned at him when he noticed Fenris was looking suggested that he knew exactly what Fenris had been thinking. Perhaps the lesson hadn't been enough after all, if he could still look so smug. It was possible it would have been wiser to punish him by not fucking him at all, but Fenris would have never had the willpower for that.

Annoyed, he turned his back to Anders. He intended to march to the kitchen, have a drink of water, make the idiot _wait_ , but he'd hardly taken more than a few steps into the flat before Anders was on him again, tugging his arm until he turned around, and then Anders pressed against him with his whole body. Fenris could feel the hard bulge of Anders' cock pressed to his hip, and it made the sheer thought of waiting unbearable.

"Now _fuck me_ ," Anders demanded.

Fenris didn't answer, but the warmth of Anders' body seeping into his skin was impossible to resist. He was useless at denying Anders anything, especially when there were just the two of them and the fear of what others would think wasn't giving him strength, and Anders knew that and shamelessly took advantage of his weakness.

Anders had also said stupid things about falling for him, and it turned out Fenris was equally useless at forgetting those, though he was trying his hardest not to think about that.

He shook his head to dispel the pointless thoughts before he caught Anders by the front of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss, and Anders came willingly and moaned into his mouth. There was a faint trace of alcohol in Anders' breath, but Fenris wanted him too much to let that bother him.

They kept stumbling towards Fenris's bed as they kissed, and Fenris had just enough time to recognise what a bad idea that was before the heel of his foot caught the edge of the rug. With Anders leaning on him with his entire weight, there was no way to regain his balance, and he didn't even manage to make a sound before he was on his back on the floor, the air whooshing out of his lungs. Anders landed right on top of him.

Fenris's first thought was that the noise of their fall must have woken up the downstairs neighbours; they would end up having to witness every single one of Anders' cries, and Fenris would never be able to look them in the eye.

"Ow," he said once he'd gotten enough air back into his lungs.

"Sorry." Anders didn't look particularly apologetic. He pushed a few strands of hair off Fenris's face, seemingly content to lie there on the floor. Well, on Fenris, who was on his back on the floor, which, no doubt, was far more comfortable for Anders than it was for Fenris.

"You know, you're so pretty," Anders said.

"Shut up," Fenris told him.

"You don't mean that."

Fenris probably didn't, but he was not about to let Anders know that.

He wouldn't have had a chance to do so anyway, because Anders kissed him, mouth hot and demanding on his, and one of these days, Fenris needed to learn how not to give in so easily. He let his hands tangle in Anders' hair and kissed back, and Anders groaned softly and rubbed his hips against Fenris's.

Fenris was starting to feel he really needed to fuck Anders soon or he'd lose what little was left of his sanity.

He caught Anders by the hips and rolled them over so that Anders was on his back with Fenris on top of him before kissing him again. Anders showed his approval of that particular course of events by wrapping his arms around Fenris, pulling him closer.

As Fenris had assumed, it was far more comfortable not being the one on his back on the hard floor, and he seriously considered fucking Anders right there. He wanted the tight heat of Anders' body and the helpless little moans he always let out when Fenris filled him. He wanted naked skin against his own, and he wanted it now.

His hands went to the flies of Anders' worn jeans and he worked them open until he could reach in. Hard flesh covered in a thin layer of cotton underwear rose to meet his searching fingers, and Anders let out the most delicious moan as Fenris gripped it, tight. He gave Anders a slow stroke, then another, thumb rubbing over where the fabric of Anders' boxers was damp and sticking to the head of his cock, and pulled his hand away.

" _Fenris_ ," Anders whined.

Fenris ignored him, as he usually did, and pushed Anders' jeans down over his hips. When Anders realised what he was doing, he lifted his arse from the floor in encouragement, and Fenris used the opportunity to pull his boxers down too.

Anders' cock was steel-hard and wet at the tip, and he made a pleased sound as Fenris wrapped a hand around it and gave it a slow, teasing stroke. Fenris did it again and watched with delight as Anders' eyes went hazy with pleasure and his mouth fell open. Drowning Anders in pleasure was so easy, and Fenris adored it.

Adored Anders, some small part of his lust-addled brain suggested, but he silenced it ruthlessly. That was not what this night—any night with Anders—was about.

With one hand, he reached down to push Anders' trousers and pants lower, and Anders wriggled under him until he managed to kick them off. When they were gone, Fenris settled between Anders' thighs, and Anders didn't hesitate for a moment before he wrapped his bare legs around Fenris's hips, pulling him down until their cocks met.

"Now," Fenris said, grinding his still-clothed hips down as he watched Anders' eyes roll back, "what was it that you asked?"

"Fenris, are you"—Anders' hands clenched where they were gripping his waist—"not on the _floor_ , please."

"Hmm," Fenris said.

"Come on." Anders writhed under him. "Let me up. Take me to bed. Much more comfortable. You can fuck me a lot harder in the bed."

Anders did have a point, but Fenris felt like making him suffer a little on principle. Anders was difficult and demanding and so very annoying, and he deserved to be treated however Fenris chose to treat him.

What he'd said about falling for Fenris was also still messing with Fenris's head enough that Anders had to be punished somehow.

"It is your fault we are on the floor in the first place," Fenris pointed out.

Anders made an annoyed noise. "I didn't mean to end up here!"

Which, Fenris conceded, was most likely true. Anders had always been rather adamant that sex happened in beds, and Fenris usually agreed.

"Still your fault," he said anyway.

He expected Anders to protest, to come up with some ridiculous reasoning for why this was actually all _Fenris's_ fault, but instead, Anders pulled him into another kiss.

"Fenris, _please_ ," Anders begged, lips touching his. "We both know you're not going to fuck me on the floor so just please take me to bed. Please?"

Fenris relented. He gave Anders one more kiss before he knelt up, pulling Anders with him until Anders was sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs.

"You are greedy and demanding," Fenris told him.

Instead of answering, Anders kissed him, and Fenris kissed back, tongue sliding into Anders' mouth. Anders clung to him with both arms, writhing on his lap, and Fenris was very close to getting distracted again. He pulled back, hands gripping Anders' shoulders tightly as Anders tried to follow him.

"Up, if you do want me to take you to bed."

Anders grinned. "How could a man say no to that?"


	2. Chapter 2

Fenris ended up carrying Anders to the bed. Anders was heavy, tall as his was, but Fenris had done it before, and there was something very appealing about holding Anders close like this, Anders' arms around his shoulders and legs around his waist. Anders never seemed to fear that Fenris would drop him either, and that trust did strange things to Fenris's insides.

"You're so strong." Anders nuzzled Fenris's temple. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."

Fenris had _some_ idea, considering that the evidence of Anders' arousal was currently digging into his belly. He tightened his hold of Anders' bare arse, pulled him a fraction closer, and Anders moaned softly into his ear.

When Fenris set Anders down on the edge of the bed, Anders flopped onto his back, then seemed to remember he was still wearing his shirt. He sat up again to yank it over his head and toss it to the floor, followed by the vest he'd been wearing under it.

The sight of him naked was always a little too much for Fenris. Resisting him would have been much easier if he hadn't looked so very good, lying there on the clean sheets, all dark-gold hair and warm skin and long limbs he wanted wrapped around his body again. Anders was an unbearable temptation, and based on the way he grinned when he stretched, back arching off the bed, he knew it.

"Are you going to stand there, looking at me like I'm the most fuckable thing you've ever seen, or are you going to get out of your clothes and, you know, _fuck me_?"

Shame that he was so incredibly annoying.

Also shame that Fenris wasn't actually anywhere near as annoyed by him as he wanted to be. He glared at Anders in hopes that it would have some kind of effect, but Anders only smiled back at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"Well?"

Huffing with annoyance, Fenris began to shed his clothes. He could feel Anders' eyes on him, following his every move, latching onto every inch of bare skin.

At least he wasn't the only one wanting here.

He had barely had time to step out of his underwear before Anders reached for his wrist and tugged him closer. Fenris crawled into the bed and settled above Anders, straddling him, and Anders gripped him by the waist and tried to pull him down. Fenris didn't let him, and Anders made a frustrated noise.

"Could you please just fuck me now?"

"No." Fenris caught Anders' wrists and pinned them to the bedding on either side of his head. "How drunk are you, really?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "Not that drunk. Maker, can you stop being so bloody difficult and _please_ fuck me? I'm not going to regret this. You're not taking advantage of me, so stick your dick up my arse where it belongs, would you be so kind?"

Fenris hesitated.

"Fuck me," Anders demanded. "Come on, I'm just a little bit drunk and I'm absolutely _desperate_ for cock. _Your_ cock, to be specific."

He'd still been drunk enough to say he'd fallen for Fenris. Which Fenris was not supposed to be thinking about. "Anders…"

"Have your bloody moral crisis some other day and _fuck me_ when I tell you to."

Fenris sighed. Anders could be very convincing, especially when he was lying under Fenris in his bed, face flushed, naked, the tip of his cock beading with precome.

Anders grinned up at him. "I like that sigh. It's your 'I think you're an idiot but I'm going to give you the best dicking you've had in your life' sigh."

Fenris was almost certain his sighs could not be that articulate, but Anders was right. He _was_ an idiot, and Fenris _was_ going to fuck him into oblivion.

"Roll over," he ordered, and let go of Anders' wrists.

With a look of absolute delight on his face, Anders complied. A bed was the only place where Fenris could make him follow any kind of directions, and he was defiant and demanding even with a cock up his arse, but at least he was willing to do a lot to get it there.

"Hurry up," Anders said, proving that he was indeed very demanding.

Fenris gave him a reproving little swat on the arse, but the way Anders moaned suggested that it may have not been much of a deterrent for further demands—which, Fenris admitted to himself, he should have known. He sighed again and reached for the nightstand to grab the bottle of lube he kept stashed there, opened it and slicked his fingers.

The slow, relentless push of two fingers into his body had Anders moaning, a low, pleased sound that seemed to go straight to Fenris' cock. Anders was so tight but still eager to accept Fenris's fingers, clenching around them as Fenris pulled them out again. He circled Anders' hole a few times, slow, teasing, and then, as Anders began to shift impatiently, pushed back in, deep and hard the way he knew Anders liked. Anders lifted his arse and spread his legs, and Fenris shifted to settle between his thighs, the fingers working Anders' hole never stopping their steady movement. He ached to be inside Anders already, but he enjoyed doing this too, enjoyed watching Anders squirm under his touch.

Anders turned his head enough to look at Fenris. His face was flushed and his eyes dark with need. "Fuck me already," he demanded. "I'm ready."

"No." Fenris placed a hand on Anders' lower back, pinning him down. "If you want my cock, you wait."

"You bastard." Anders buried his face in the pillow, and his next words were muffled. "If I didn't know yours is the best, I'd go to some other bed."

Fenris frowned, the fingers inside Anders stilling. He didn't like to think of the other cocks Anders had had, or would have after his. They were not exclusive and he didn't know how many others Anders shagged on the nights he didn't come to Fenris's bed.

He did not want to know. Anders had the right to share himself with anyone he wanted, and that was not any of Fenris's business.

Under normal circumstances, Anders made no claims of liking Fenris, let alone feeling anything more towards him. All they had was lust; Anders may have had plenty of partners he liked more than he liked Fenris, and the only reason they slept together was because the sex was so damn good.

Well, and because Fenris may or may not have had some feelings himself, but he wasn't thinking about that. Right.

"Fenris." Anders wiggled his arse. "Come on. Are you going to keep me trapped like this all night, or are you going to fuck me?"

The answer to that was obvious.

Fenris gave him a few more deep, hard thrusts, to make a point, before he pulled his fingers out, wiped them with a tissue, and then took a condom from the nightstand. He found his hands shaking as he rolled it on himself, shuddering at the touch of his own hand. The problem with teasing Anders by taking things slow was that he was teasing himself too, and now he needed to have Anders, immediately, or he would go mad.

"I want you on your back," he said.

Anders looked at him over his shoulder. "What if I scream? Wanna gag me?" He wiggled his eyebrows in the most annoying way imaginable.

 _Absolutely not_ , Fenris thought, but didn't say. He didn't want Anders to think he appreciated the mindless babbling the man was so keen on.

"You would be wise to be quiet," he said instead.

"As if that's going to happen." But Anders was already rolling to his back.

Fenris lowered himself down on top of Anders and pressed their mouths together. Anders' lips parted without prompting, and Fenris pushed his tongue in. He could still taste the alcohol in Anders' breath, a sobering reminder that perhaps he shouldn't be doing this, but it was impossible to stop. Anders' cock was hard and slick pressed to the top of his thigh, Anders' skin warm and his hands gentle around Fenris's waist. Fenris wanted him far too much.

Still kissing, Fenris worked a hand between their bodies, and as Anders spread his legs and lifted his knees, Fenris settled between them and guided the tip of his aching cock to Anders' arse.

He looked Anders in the eye as he pushed in, slow and gentle to give them both time to adjust to the feeling, and as Anders looked back, eyes dark and hungry, Fenris realised he would regret this night. _Why did I ever fall for such a bastard?_ Anders had said, but he had not meant it. Well, he no doubt had meant the bastard part, but nothing else.

And here Fenris was, _in love_.

It shocked him that he actually admitted that to himself, enough so that he stilled above Anders, deep inside the hot clench of his body.

He'd loved this foolish man for a long while, even before they'd fallen into bed together. He had worked hard to deny it, to pretend he hated Anders, or that the man at least annoyed him, and then, later, that all he felt was lust, but that was over now.

Perhaps he should have seen it coming. In addition to being so very attractive, Anders had a great sense of humour, and he was gentle and open and giving, but with fierce fire burning somewhere deep inside; who would have not fallen for that?

And Anders, beautiful, ridiculous, charming Anders, when sober, would say many foolish things, but never anything about feelings.

Fenris closed his eyes and took a calming breath. It shook more than it should have. Not now, he told himself. He couldn't think about that _now_ , when he was fucking Anders, when Anders was squirming under him, demanding more with each quiver of his body.

 _Have your moral crisis later_ , Anders had told him. He would do the same with his regrets, he decided. Later, when he'd satisfied Anders, when he'd given Anders the one thing he wanted from Fenris.

"Do you _have_ to keep torturing me?"

Anders' hands were clutching his waist so hard it almost hurt, and Fenris opened his eyes. He wanted to say something, something clever and teasing, something to make Anders laugh or beg, but he had no words.

He did the only thing he could do: he gripped Anders' hips with both hands and, looking into those golden-brown eyes, began to move. Anders let out a pleased sigh, eyelids fluttering as he pulled Fenris closer.

The slick, tight heat of his body was as intoxicating as it had always been, and going slow was not an option. The pushes of Fenris's cock into Anders were picking up pace already, his hips slapping against Anders' arse with each thrust.

" _Fuck_ that feels good," Anders hissed. "You're so fucking _good_." He stared up at Fenris, hands stroking his back. "Fuck me, Fenris."

"I—I thought that was what I was doing," Fenris got out, but he did what Anders had asked, fucked him with single-minded intensity, filling him deep with each thrust, again and again, so good and familiar.

For this night, Anders was his, all his and no one else's, and Fenris would show him, would prove him how good it could be, how good it would always be if Anders only came to him every night and _loved him_ , because he should, he should have been Fenris's alone—

He held on to Anders hips tighter, shifted the angle of his thrusts, fucked him as if it was his only purpose in life, and Anders cried out when the pressure on his prostate intensified.

"Fenris, Fenris, _there_ \--!"

 _Obviously_ , Fenris wanted to say, but he didn't have enough air in his lungs. Anders was clenching around him, so very sweet and tight, and Fenris was moments away from losing all control.

"Please, Fenris," Anders begged, and his voice shook just a little, just the way Fenris loved.

That didn't help with staying in control. Fenris fucked Anders harder, kept the angle the same, determinate to make Anders fall apart under him before he lost it himself. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Anders' eyes, so dark and hazy with lust. Anders was at his best like this, close enough that he was barely coherent. At moments like this, he _did_ belong to Fenris as much as someone as wild and free as him could ever belong to anyone, if only because there was no room left in his head for anything else but what Fenris was doing to him.

"Love you," Anders gasped. "Fuck, Fenris, I—"

Fenris didn't even think before he silenced Anders with a hard kiss. He refused to hear that because it was not true and could never be true. Anders was drunk and anything that came out of his mouth wasn't to be trusted. Anders could not mean it, and come morning, he would take his words back.

It was so tempting to start to regret ahead of schedule.

Fenris refused. He had Anders writhing under him, hot and perfect around his cock; he could focus on that. He was going to make Anders come so hard he wouldn't remember his own name, let alone stupid, painful words that were nothing but drunken lies.

"Fenris, I—" Anders' back arched off the bed and his entire frame trembled.

Fenris kissed him again to keep him quiet and wrapped a hand around Anders' cock, slick with precome. He stroked Anders in time with his thrusts, and Anders cried out into his mouth, hips jerking up and arse clenching as he spilled over Fenris's hand and his own belly.

Fenris supposed he should have worried about the neighbours hearing them, but any look they could give, no matter how dirty, seemed like the least of his problems now.

Anders clung to him, making incoherent noises of pleasure and writhing under him as Fenris's hand worked the rest of his release out of him, and all Fenris could do was to follow him down.

The blissful, floating feeling the orgasm left behind faded slowly, and Fenris blinked his eyes open. He was still lying on top of Anders, whose arms were around him, fingers drawing nonsense patterns on his back. The last thing Fenris wanted was to move, but he knew they couldn't stay like that all night

It took all the energy he had left to roll of Anders, and Anders made a displeased noise. Fenris soothed him with a kiss on his shoulder.

His hands were unsteady as he peeled off the condom, tied it and dropped into the trashcan beside the bed. Anders was still lying unmoving on his back, blinking slowly as he watched Fenris. He didn't seem inclined to do anything about the mess on his belly—he never bothered, lazy arse—and with a sigh, Fenris reached for the tissues on the nightstand and wiped them both clean.

Anders finally deigned to move when Fenris nudged him so that he would roll off the duvet, though only just enough that Fenris could pull it from under him. Fenris gave him a disapproving look, but Anders ignored it, and with a sigh, Fenris settled to lie down next to him and pulled the duvet over them both.

Anders rolled to his side and shifted closer, pressing his body against Fenris's and muttering something incomprehensible. The only time he could ever quell his constant need to babble seemed to be after sex, when he was still lost in the afterglow.

It was rather adorable, and Fenris hated him for it.

Or possibly did not.

Anders nuzzled his shoulder, sweet and barely awake. "Love you," he mumbled.

Fenris swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat and pulled Anders closer. _Shut up_ , he thought, and, _I love you too_.

He wished Anders hadn't been drunk, but that was useless, of course. Taking Anders home at all had been a mistake.

So had been allowing their not-relationship to begin in the first place. In fact, everything he'd done regarding to Anders, from the first time he'd let himself to be kissed to this fateful night, had been stupid.

Now, it was time to pay for that.


	3. Chapter 3

Fenris woke up with Anders wrapped around him like a particularly clingy octopus and blinked at the bright light filtering through the blinds.

Seemed like a good moment to focus on his regrets, he decided. He had a lot of that to do.

Gently, he detangled himself from Anders' grip and slipped out of the bed. Anders made a dissatisfied little noise but didn't wake up, only burrowed deeper under the covers.

For a moment, Fenris considered running away. He could have gotten dressed and gone out, left Anders to wake up alone. Perhaps he could have written a note. _We're done. It's over. You said you love me, but you were drunk and didn't mean it. I can't be with you anymore. It's all too much and it breaks my heart because I have loved you for far too long already._

Well, not one quite like that. He could have tried to be a little less pathetic.

Anders rolled over, and for a terrifying moment Fenris was sure he was about to wake up. He stood very still beside the bed, hardly breathing, until Anders settled again.

It wouldn't be fair to run away. They'd been fucking long enough that Anders deserved better than a note, and though the conversation would be painful and awkward, they needed to have it.

They'd survived the awkward talk they'd had after their first night together, and though this would be much worse, they would survive this too. Of course, this time there were _feelings_ involved, and they made things a lot more complicated.

Fenris cringed. Horrible things, feelings. Especially the ones he was having towards the idiot currently drooling on his pillow. If there had been a way to have them surgically removed, he would have gone under the knife in a heartbeat.

Since that was not an option, Fenris headed to the shower in a vain hope that hot water and soap would wash away at least some of his regrets.

As it turned out, the only effect the shower had was washing the lingering scent of sex from his skin. Brushing his teeth wasn't any more effective. The fresh mint of the toothpaste couldn't replace the bittersweet taste of the words he hadn't dared to say even to a sleeping Anders.

He wondered if allowing them past his lips would have left him feeling better. It wouldn't have made Anders' drunken stupidity any more true, but at least he would have said that to someone, for once in his life. He hadn't had much opportunity before, and after this, he would have to guard his heart much better.

His eyes drifted to the closed bathroom door that separated him from Anders, and he opened his mouth, ready to whisper the words now, just to try them out.

Something in his chest clenched, painful and sharp, and he couldn't make a sound.

Better that way, he decided and reached for the door handle. Love was not meant for him.

Fenris had to suppress the urge to run and hide again as he rushed to grab fresh clothes from his closet and caught a sight of Anders, still asleep, the covers pulled up to his chin, breathing slow and steady. He looked so very comfortable Fenris wished he could crawl into the bed and lie next to him for the rest of the day, hand in hand, skin on skin, doing nothing but existing together.

Useless dream. Once Anders woke up, he would remember the foolish words he'd said and would regret them as much as Fenris regretted taking him home that night. They could not be comfortable in bed when they had to deal with the feelings Anders didn't have and Fenris would never admit out loud.

With a soft sigh, Fenris slipped away, clothes bundled under one arm. At least it was easier to be somewhere—anywhere—else than so close to Anders.

He got dressed in the kitchen and then wondered what he was supposed to do. He had to wait until Anders woke up to deal with the end of their relationship, but he shouldn't spend his time standing there looking like the idiot he was.

It was better to keep busy; he would make Anders breakfast. He always made Anders breakfast after they'd fucked the previous night, and he would do it this last time.

And if it stung to think that this would indeed be the last time, well, he deserved it for being so very stupid. He should have stayed far away from the charming, babbling temptation Anders was.

It took him a while to decide what he would make. He stood in front of the open fridge and stared at its contents as if they held the answer to all the questions of the universe.

They did not. They were only food and had even fewer answer than Fenris himself did.

He wasn't sure what, exactly, he would say to Anders, but he would not admit his own feelings; it would be humiliating, and Anders would only feel guilty. No doubt he would figure out why Fenris ended the relationship like this, but if Fenris said nothing, maybe they could both pretend that it would simply be too awkward to continue.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for the eggs. Omelettes would be fine. They wouldn't take too much effort and he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to ruin them even in his distracted state.

He placed the eggs on the counter and then sat down and rested his head on his hands. He was so fucked.

Half an hour later, Anders meandered into the kitchen wrapped in a sheet, looking more awkward than hungover. Fenris had managed to get everything he needed for the omelettes ready, the beaten eggs waiting in their own bowl, diced ham and grated cheese in two others.

Fenris should have not been thinking about the omelettes. He forced himself to focus on Anders, who wasn't meeting his eyes, and was almost relieved. He didn't know what his own would have revealed if Anders had looked into them.

 _I will worship you for the rest of my life if you tell me you love me one more time_ , probably.

How humiliating.

Since Anders did nothing but stand there, apparently too embarrassed by his own behaviour the previous night, Fenris took a breath and arranged his face into a smile. It felt fake and left his cheeks aching. "I was thinking of making omelettes for breakfast. Can your stomach handle that?"

Anders shifted on his feet. Considering he wasn't looking at Fenris, the effort he'd put into the smile seemed to have gone to waste.

"Would it be better if I just—"

"No," Fenris interrupted. He was already regretting; he could handle the whole sordid ordeal before noon, and then do whatever one was supposed to do when heartbroken. To get drunk, he supposed. Very, very drunk. "We shall talk."

Anders flinched. It made Fenris want to hold him, to protect him, and he gritted his teeth.

"I could have run away this morning, when you were still asleep in my bed. I did not. I will not let you do that either."

That got him another flinch, and he almost felt bad for saying that. He shouldn't take his pain out on Anders just because Anders had been drunk and stupid; it was his own fault he couldn't let go of a few meaningless words.

"Take a shower," he ordered. "After that, we will settle this. Then…" he trailed off. _Then I will tell you to leave and never come back to me, because my heart cannot take it anymore_ , he thought, but couldn't make himself say. "Take a shower," he repeated.

Slowly, Anders nodded and turned towards the bathroom.

Fenris sat in his chair until he could hear the shower start running, and then got up and clicked on the coffeemaker before turning to the stove.

He could have still run, he thought as he set the pan on the burner and turned the knob.

He could have.

Anders returned to kitchen hanging his head like a beaten dog. The water dripping from his hair created damp spots on the shoulders of his shirt.

Fenris had to resist the urge to take a towel and dry him properly. He'd done that before, but now he could not afford to touch. If he did, he would go too far. He would put his hands on the bare skin of Anders' neck, push his fingers into those tangled golden locks, press his mouth on Anders' and then drag him back to bed and _take him_ in hopes that he'd say those words he'd never meant, one more time.

 _Apologise_ , he wanted to say. _Apologise for saying things that cannot be true. Apologise for forcing me to acknowledge feelings I never wanted to have, least of all towards you._

_Then go, leave, never come back to break my heart again._

"Sit down," was what he did say.

It was not fair to blame Anders. People said all sorts of things they didn't mean when they were fucking, and it was not Anders' fault Fenris had fallen in love and Anders would only ever be deluded into saying _I love you_ when he was drunk.

Anders sat down. He looked scared, as if he thought Fenris would force him to repeat his earlier words, as if he feared Fenris would demand his love even now when he was sober.

He would never. A part of him wanted that beautiful lie again while another dreaded it, but he knew it would hurt too much. As foolish as Anders was, he deserved better than to be trapped into a hopeless relationship because of a few words he had not meant.

Fenris sighed and tried to focus on their breakfast. Stilling his shaky hands took more effort than would have ever wanted to admit, but he managed to pour them both a cup of coffee and place Anders' omelette on his plate without dropping it or the frying pan onto the floor, or worse, into Anders' lap. Anders made a little noise that Fenris assumed was meant to be a _thank you_ , and Fenris responded with an another one he hoped Anders would interpret to mean _you're welcome_.

He set his own omelette on his plate and took a seat, and then realised Anders was just sitting there, opposite to him, hands on his lap and damp hair falling to hide most of his face, instead of doing what one was supposed to do when faced with an omelette.

"Eat," Fenris ordered.

Anders nodded and picked up the fork, then stared at it as if he wasn't sure how to use it. Fenris almost wanted to take his hand and show him.

He wanted to take Anders' hand and hold it in his own, feel its warmth. Like a lover would do.

Gritting his teeth, he reached for his own fork and stuck it into his own breakfast, possibly with a little more aggression than the poor piece of food deserved. He could hear the clink of Anders' fork touching the plate, but he did not look up to see if Anders was eating. Instead, he sat still and tried to find his appetite.

Anders broke the oppressive silence that had fallen over them by clearing his throat.

"So," so said, voice quiet and awkward and unsteady. "Things were said. Last night."

"Yes." Fenris considered for a moment before he lifted his head to look at Anders. "I told you to shut up. Multiple times. You did not listen."

It sounded too angry, too confrontational, but Fenris had trouble controlling his tone. He only had too options, angry and heartbroken, and at least anger would make Anders feel less guilty.

"You say that all the time. You know I never do." Anders looked up enough to offer him a sad little smile that made Fenris's heart ache. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Fenris said, because he was.

Anders poked his omelette with his fork.

"Drinking's not good for me," he said. The omelette got a few more pokes. Fenris wanted to tell him it wasn't getting any deader, no matter how many times he stabbed it.

"No, it is not." Fenris shifted on his seat and returned to stare at his own plate. "I should have not had sex with you at all."

Anders was quiet for a while.

"If you're saying that because of what I said, then yeah, you should have not, but if you're planning to have that moral crisis now, then no, you definitely should have fucked me, because I wasn't _that_ drunk."

Fenris didn't know how to respond. He still felt entitled to his moral crisis, but if Anders thought it was not appropriate, maybe he could delay it some more. He could focus on regretting for a while. There was enough of that to take up most of his attention.

"You're an idiot if you're so caught up on me being drunk. You know you didn't … I don't know, take advantage or anything." Anders sighed. "I'm sorry for making you feel bad about that too."

And now Fenris had to be sorry for making Anders feel guilty. "It's fine. Don't apologise. You did—" _nothing wrong_ , he'd been about to say, but that was not true. "Not your fault," he finished, lamely.

Anders sighed again. "I really do love you, you know," he said and poked his omelette again. He sounded despondent.

Fenris considered taking a bite of his own food, but it seemed supremely unappetising. "I know," he answered. He wondered how drunk he actually needed to get to forget. Much more drunk than Anders had been—probably more drunk than would be healthy. Black-out drunk, the kind he hadn't been in a while.

Then Anders' words actually registered. He dropped his fork and looked up.

"What."

Anders looked back at him. "What?"

"You—you love me?"

"Yeah. You knew that, that's why we're here having this horrible conversation while pretending to eat breakfast."

"No, I—" Fenris spluttered. He was starting to get the feeling Anders wasn't the biggest idiot in this relationship at all. "I, no, I—why would you do such a thing?"

Anders shrugged. "Because I can't help it? You're really—" he made a helpless gesture. "I don't know. Pretty. Clever. Nice."

" _Nice_!" Fenris repeated, incredulous.

"Well, not very nice," Anders admitted. "You're kind of an arse a lot of time. At least towards me. But you've got … potential to be nice, all right? You make me omelettes even after I confess my stupid useless feelings. That's … that's pretty nice. All right?"

"All right," Fenris said. "So… You really love me?"

Anders sighed. "Yeah." His voice was full of such misery. No one should speak about love and be that miserable. "Yeah, I do."

"So you didn't just say that because you were stupid and drunk?"

"I _was_ stupid and drunk, but it's still true. Can we just … drop this now? Please. I'm pretty sure I've humiliated myself enough." He huffed and turned to look out of the window. "I've ruined my chances to get even your cock after this, haven't I? Maker, I shouldn't worry about your _cock_ now. Sorry."

"No. No." Because suddenly, it was so clear to Fenris what he could lose. He stood up before he realised he was even moving, his chair clattering over behind him, reached across the table, caught Anders by the collar with both hands and pulled him up. Mouth open, Anders stared at him, frozen in shock and wide-eyed like a hare in a poacher's light.

He looked like the idiot he was, and Fenris had never loved anyone more.

"I love you," Fenris told him, and kissed him.

Anders made a sound like a man dying. His lips were still parted, and Fenris took advantage of that. He kissed Anders hard, claiming his mouth, claiming _him_ , and Anders' hands rose to cling to his wrists.

Fenris wasn't sure how long they kissed. Every time his mouth left Anders', Anders made a needy little noise that compelled Fenris to kiss him again, and again and again until they were both breathless with it.

His head was reeling when he finally pulled back far enough to look at Anders. There were tears on Anders' pale cheeks, his eyes were reddened and his damp hair was a mess. He was the most beautiful creature Fenris had ever seen.

"I love you," he said again, surprised that the taste of the words held no bitterness at all.

Anders made a broken noise, hands clenching around Fenris's wrists, and Fenris couldn't resist giving him yet another kiss, but the edge of the table was digging into the tops of his thighs and he was constantly on the verge of losing his balance. Clearly, kissing across the table like this was not the best option.

Fenris let go of Anders' collar, and Anders collapsed back to sit on his chair.

"Fuck," he said, his voice watery. "Fenris, _fuck_."

Fenris glanced at his omelette. He wasn't that hungry, and it would probably be all right heated up anyway.

"Yes," he decided. "I think we shall."

"Oh," Anders said, eyes wide. "Fuck, yes, please." Something seemed to have happened to his usually extensive vocabulary, but Fenris didn't mind. No doubt Anders would be back to his usual babbling soon enough.

The few steps around the table that separated him from Anders seemed to take too long. A part of Fenris was certain Anders would change his mind before Fenris got to him, but then he was there and reached for the front of Anders' shirt. Tears were still shining on Anders' cheeks and in his eyes as Fenris hauled him up and kissed him, and Anders kissed back and clung to him, one hand in his hair, the other clutching his shirt at the small of his back. There was desperation in their kiss, frantic need unlike anything Fenris had experienced before.

He remembered what he'd thought when Anders had first appeared in the kitchen doorway that morning.

"I will worship you for the rest of my life," he whispered, lips still touching Anders'. "With my body, with everything I am, if you let me."

He pulled back to see Anders' reaction, watched Anders' throat bob as he swallowed. "Fuck. Yeah. Yes. You can. Anything you want."

It was less about wanting and more about needing, about falling into a thousand pieces if he couldn't, but he didn't bother explaining that. Instead, he combed his fingers through the mess of Anders' hair and kissed him again, and it wasn't enough. He needed more than Anders' lovely mouth; he needed everything Anders was, and he needed to give everything he was himself in return.

Anders was shaky enough that it was no effort to push him down onto the floor and pin him there. He was warm and solid under Fenris, and he held on to Fenris with both hands, pulled him closer. His lips were parted and he was breathing hard, and as always, it was impossible resist him.

Fenris kissed him and Anders whined into his mouth, arching up from the floor. His fingers clenched where he was gripping Fenris's side, holding on to him so tight it almost hurt, but Fenris didn't care. He wanted Anders close, as close as he could be, so close they would be one, and if the hard cock pressed to the top of his thigh was any indication, Anders wanted the same.

"Love you," Anders breathed, and this time Fenris felt no need to silence him. "Love you, love you so much."

"I love you too," Fenris whispered. It felt incredible to be able to say that and to hear those words said to him and to believe them.

He paused to look at Anders under him, so lovely, so desirable, so very _his_ , only ever his, and wondered how soon everyone would know about this too, about this love they could have now.

And he realised it would be as soon as they chose to tell, because he would not pretend anymore. He would make it clear that he was with Anders, that Anders was not available. If it was up to Fenris, everyone, including Hawke's mother, would know the moment Fenris saw them, because he was in love, and he could not have been happier.

He leant down to kiss Anders again, and Anders pulled him closer. The heat of the body under him was so tempting, calling him to touch, and he could not refuse. His hands burrowed into Anders' clothing, undid his fly and pushed his shirt up so that he could find warm skin, and Anders made a helpless noise into the kiss.

"Yes, Fenris, _yes_ ," he choked out as Fenris released his mouth, his voice shaking as much as his body.

Fenris agreed. _Yes_. Yes now, yes every day for the rest of their lives, because he loved Anders, loved him so, and Anders loved him back.

Fenris bit Anders' lower lip, and Anders let out another noise, needy and beautiful, and Fenris was out of patience. He was going to have Anders, right now, here on the floor; he could not wait and would not wait a moment longer.

"I'm going to make love to you," Fenris told Anders. "I'm going to make love you to you right here."

"Fenris, are you sure—" Anders started, though his legs were already spreading to offer Fenris access. "The floor—"

"Shut up," Fenris said.

Anders' throat moved as he swallowed, his arms tightening around Fenris. For once in his life, he did as Fenris told him and shut up, and only used his mouth to kiss Fenris.


End file.
